


Reparation

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Canon - Enhances original, Canon - Non-canonical to good purpose, Canon - Outstanding AU/reinterpretation, Characters - Good use of minor character(s), Characters - New interpretation, Humor, Other - Freeform, Plot - Can't stop reading, Plot - I reread often, Plot - Surprising reversals, Subjects - Explores obscure facts, Subjects - Legends/Myth/History, Writing - Clear prose, Writing - Engaging style, Writing - Experimental, Writing - Good use of humor, Writing - Well-handled PoV(s), Writing - Well-handled dialogue, Writing - Well-handled introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 22:16:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3745367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An unexpected summons by the Valar leaves an old man slightly shellshocked. My first foray into Tolkien humour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reparation

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

There came but lately to Valinor an old man, one of the Atani, though few  
amongst the Followers have ever been granted such an audience, and still  
fewer have returned to tell the tale. And this man had indeed died and  
passed beyond the confines of the world, but he was recalled by the Valar,  
for Manwe wished to hold discourse with him.

Now when he came at last to the great halls in the Towers of Oiolossë,  
and stood before Manwe and Varda, he quailed at their power and their  
beauty, but they bade him be not afraid, though they had hard questions to  
put to him concerning his deeds in Arda during his life there.

And Manwe said sternly: "You were granted a gift, old man, the gift of  
knowledge, with the one purpose that you might use it wisely amongst your  
kin, passing on the histories of the lands and peoples of Arda, in full  
truth and without distortion, to those who would use them wisely."

"Yes Lord," replied the old man, greatly troubled, for he feared the tone  
of Manwe's voice and felt dread in his heart at his words, guessing at  
where they might lead.

"And this you have tried to do," said Varda. "But little did you heed  
what might befall should that knowledge reach those who care not for the  
sacred texts and would use them to further the pride and vanity of the Dark  
Powers of him we do not name. For even now a great evil has spread across  
Middle Earth, yea even the evil of half-truths and of tales distorted, and  
the great deeds of the Children of Iluvatar are lessened by it. Your toil  
has run away with you, Master Tolkien."

"Alas my Lady, you speak truly," replied the old man in a quavering  
voice. "But I was not granted the span to do otherwise for time overtook my  
endeavours, and I had to trust to others to continue my task. But I know  
what is in your mind. For have I not heard the petty wrangling of those who  
care only for the colour of Elven hair, or whether Balrogs have wings? Why  
some there are who spend their waking days in pondering the truth of the  
depth of the fords at Osgiliath, when I myself gave little thought to such  
matters. I am a master of tongues, lord, but no military historian. And  
have I not seen the mockeries of tales that would have great warriors more  
interested in carnal pleasures than the fight against evil? Why, they  
render the fair lands of Middle Earth a veritable brothel! And do I not  
tremble at the travesty that even now renders the Wars of the Ring a craven  
thrill for the entertainment of adolescents, turning hobbits into sex  
symbols and elves into, well, fairies?"

"So, you too have seen it?" Manwe sighed and the ground shook as he did  
so. "Actually, I thought the film was rather good. It made me cry which is  
more than your books ever did. But it is not of the evils that have come  
after that I speak, for you are not accountable for those. Now comes the  
rub. I summoned you here today for I am troubled by the complaints of many  
who dwell in Valinor or beyond the confines of Arda, and who had great part  
in the deeds of those times. They feel misrepresented by your words, and by  
what has followed.

Here is the list of the harms you must repair. For though you intended it  
not, your words and your tales have caused a great storm, that began as a  
trickle of stones, but would have brought down a mountain on your head had  
I not intervened for your safety."

From a great carved coffer beside his throne, Manwe took then a long  
scroll and began to read from it.

"First, Olorin. The hat must go. He never could suffer it, even while he  
walked in the Shire, for it has made folk laugh at him and it diminishes  
his dignity. As you well know he wore only a hood. And the beard that you  
gave him is too long. It gets tangled in the mane of Shadowfax.

Second, the Eldar. The people of the younger days believe them to be vain  
creatures, caring only for their hair and their clothes. They are gaining,  
how shall I put it, a certain reputation, Master Tolkien, and they fear  
that you have overstated that side of their nature, for few folk there are  
that treat them seriously in these times. And you were unclear on the  
matter of their ears, an issue of some sensitivity.

Third, King Elessar. You have granted him virtue in too great a measure,  
and he fears that your portrayal has rendered him tiresome. You made no  
mention of his other deeds at Meduseld, or why he was so delayed at  
Dunharrow that he came only to the City when the battle was almost done. He  
is, after all, a Man, and he ever craves more exposure."

The old man broke in, astounded; "Why, I named a whole volume after him,  
Lord. Was that not sufficient?" A dark shadow crossed his face as  
realisation suddenly came. "But, what of the Lady Arwen? Must I break her  
heart? Moreover, did they not liken their love to the bond between Luthien  
and Beren? No, I could not countenance such a thing!"

"Then, did Luthien never tell you?" said Varda softly, and broke off.  
"No, perhaps some tales are better left untold. Not all enjoy the bliss  
that you were fortunate to earn, but I would not tread on your dreams so I  
will hold my peace."

There was a long silence and then Tolkien sighed and said sadly. "The  
World is changed. I feel it in the Air. But perhaps not as much as I once  
thought, for is it not said that the more things change the more they stay  
the same? Forgive me my innocence, Lord Manwe, for I lived not even the  
span of Baggins to learn the true ways of Arda, and it was a sheltered life  
I led. I see now that I was searching as through a veil of mist, for what I  
wished to see and not what was."

"We of the Valar know that well, friend," replied Manwe gently, "for that  
is why you were chosen. The tales of old rarely speak the truth of events,  
or none would wish to hear them. But there, we have toiled long in  
explaining this to all our most illustrious children, and still they listen  
not."

"Then how was I at fault, and what must I do?"

"That shall be told in time. But first there is more to come. Saruman you  
revealed as a traitor to the council. That was the greatest error in your  
sources, for you spoke long with Olorin did you not? And the rest you took  
from the Red Book?"

Tolkien nodded weakly, for his head was beginning to spin.

"Much as we love The Grey Pilgrim, he is not as you would have him. He  
long wished to supplant the leader of his order at Orthanc, for he envied  
his power and his silken words. The deeds of Sauron and the Wars of the  
Ring were a perfect cloak with which to mantle his desire, and he had in  
this the unwitting support of the Halflings, whose tale it was you told.  
But Saruman was misunderstood, and in him was the true path to peace, as he  
long tried to persuade the free peoples of the West."

The Professor reeled. This was more than he could bear. He opened his  
mouth to reply but no words came.

Then Varda spoke. Her gentle voice was kind, a mother explaining the  
strange ways of the world to her child. "He was to surrender the Ring to  
me, once he had received it from the hobbit, Frodo. Gwaihir should have  
brought it, but Olorin beguiled him. And long before, the Heir of Elendil,  
what was his name?"

"Aragorn?" quavered Tolkien.

"Not he, the other. Isildur. He was sent, to bring it to Valinor via the  
Havens, but he did not arrive. The orcs that waylaid him, they were sent by  
Olorin, you see, but he could not find the ring in the River."

"But, forgive me lady, why to you?"

"The ring was mine, master Tolkien. A trinket from Manwe. Aulë made it  
for him to give to me. We knew not that it had any power until Sauron took  
it and claimed it for his own."

"Did he not then forge the One Ring?"

"He did not," retorted Manwe. "It was made in Orodruin, that is true, but  
the idea that Sauron made it was another feint by Olorin, for it suited his  
purpose against Saruman."

Tolkien sat down heavily on a three legged stool that had appeared from  
nowhere, and said faintly;

"Then why was he not cast out of his order for his evil misdeeds? And all  
those people dead in the Third Age. I do not understand."

"Olorin is a maker of mischief, a spinner of yarns, you might say,"  
continued Manwe. "No doubt you remember the Council. He is harmless, and  
all love him, as they would have loved Saruman had they known better. The  
end was achieved. Sauron was punished. But Saruman and Olorin, they are  
brothers and they sought ever to outdo one the other.

But now, to the quick. You must repair the fault of your words so that  
Saruman be restored and the others be rightly known. Leave nothing out this  
time."

"This time?" whispered the old man.

"You must go back," said Manwe solemnly. "The history must be recast.  
Only that will atone for the ills that have arisen, and you must undertake  
the task. You must begin again, Master Tolkien!"

The Professor staggered out of the hall and stopped outside to recover  
his strength.

"Why ever didn't I just stick with the day job?" he thought as he lit his  
pipe.


End file.
